


Trained For Sin

by isTrash



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - 90s, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Artist Keith (Voltron), Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Banker Lance (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bittersweet Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Crying, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Needs A Hug, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff and Angst, Gay Keith (Voltron), Ghost (1990) AU, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Happy Ending, Heaven, Heavy Angst, Hell, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Men Crying, Multi, Possession, Psychic Abilities, Psychic!Pidge | Katie Holt, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, just like a lot of death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isTrash/pseuds/isTrash
Summary: "I can't breathe," said Lance, sputtering it out between his coughs.Keith rolled his eyes, elbowing the Cuban man in the side. "Use your mask, genius.""Alright, alright, God, your elbows are so pointy," Lance said as he adjusted his face mask.It's Spring, 1990, and Lance's life is looking on the bright side. He's at the highest point in his career in banking, he loves his new Manhattan apartment, and he's moving in with his beautiful and amazing boyfriend, Keith. However, after Lance is murdered, his spirit stays behind to warn Keith of impending danger, with the help of a very reluctant psychic.Featuring cursing, sex, con artists, betrayal, an AU no one asked for, and me constantly suffering internally as I write this...





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith clean out their new apartment and add furniture to it! Also, they don't know why, but Lotor's there too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this is another idea of mine that I had at around 2 a.m. (one that I decided that I absolutely immediately had to act on) and this has been a really big project for me! I’m already at chapter 8 with this so far, and it should have at least 2 more chapters. really happy to be doing this!!!

Lance tracked slowly through the clouds of moving dust. Shafts of muted light poked in from the holes and windows in the place, piercing through the dense atmosphere. An eerie netherworld was enveloping him.

Broken timbers and dangling cables were emerging from the smoky light, giving off shadows onto the huge demolished space below it.

Smoke, dust, mildew, it was everywhere in this place.

Lance ducked under a white sheet blocking his pathway, an old white plaster wall blocking his view. In the quiet room, the sound of street traffic was heard in the distance.

Suddenly, a sledgehammer came into Lance's view and hit the wall, the wall giving a great shudder before finally buckling.

Chunks of plaster crashed to the ground at Lance's feet and the air filled with a whole new set of swirling dust. Beams of sunlight cut through the cracks, penetrating the shadows like searchlights in a fog. A huge section of the plaster fell once again, billowing through the air.

"God, what a mess!" Keith said, holding his sledgehammer to his chest.

Lance snorted, mimicking his boyfriend by cradling his sledgehammer. "I told you so!"

Lance, Keith, and Lotor were checking out the old abandoned apartment Keith had seen an ad for in the newspaper. Right now, they were currently cleaning it all up, seeing what could be salvaged and what couldn't.

Lance squinted and leaned forward, trying to peer through the shadows beyond the plaster. Instead, he choked on the dust flying through the air.

"I can't breathe," said Lance, sputtering it out between his coughs.

Keith rolled his eyes, elbowing the Cuban man in the side. "Use your mask, genius."

"Alright, alright, God, your elbows are so pointy," Lance said as he adjusted his face mask. Isolated rays of sunshine danced around him, casting long shadows in the air.

Keith ignored him. "Wow," he said as he looked through the broken wall, "Lance, look, there's a whole eight feet up there."

"And about eighty yards of dust," Lance shrugged, slinging his sledgehammer over his shoulders for him to grasp, popping his hip to the side.

"Yeah, but we have all this in height, Lance. We could add a second floor and put our bedroom upstairs. That would leave all this space," Keith said, motioning to the area around them as he said it.

Lance eyed him curiously. "Space… for what?"

"Space. Just plain old space."

Lance leaned over to Lotor, chuckling. "Be great for bumper cars, too."

Lotor laughed, looking to Lance. Both of their clothes were covered in a white powder. 

Keith rolled his eyes—as he always seemed to do when Lance and Lotor were together—and sighed.

With a smile, Lance strode over and gave Keith a kiss on the cheek. Keith tilted his head to the side and exhaled. "Lance, you two are going to be the death of me."

Lance chortled and a glinting object caught his eye. He walked over to it and picked it up, a penny falling out of a mason jar.

"Oh, hey, look what I found. Penny," Lance said, reading off the year on the penny. "Eighteen-Ninety-Two. Huh…"

Keith plucked the penny from Lance's hand, offering it back to him. "For luck in our new loft. It's a good omen."

" _You're_ a good omen," Lance replied cheekily.

Lotor coughed suddenly, making the two lovebirds jolt in surprise.

"Sorry," Keith muttered, looking around the place again in interest.

The dust had finally settled in and the outlines of the space they were working in suddenly became clear. It must've been over four thousand square feet. Banks of windows ran east and west. Once they got the place all fixed up, it'd be a real bargain.

"It's perfect," Lance sighed, standing beside Keith as he admired it.

Lotor nodded, joining the two men in observing it. "You two lucked out. I bet you could even sell it tomorrow and double your investment."

Furrowing his brows, Keith looked to Lotor. "Sell it? Lotor, we just bought it."

Lotor shrugged. "Just saying."

Lance sighed dreamily. "It's going to be great."

* * *

Morning rush hour in New York was even more brutal than usual.

Lance kept getting pushed and shoved as he exited the Wall Street subway station and approached the headquarters of Market Security Bank & Trust with Lotor at his side.

Lance distractedly straightened his tie for the tenth time as Lotor went on about work.

"…I had to move your three o'clock with Steve Goranski to four o'clock so you could squeeze in Ryan Kinkade. He called yesterday and said he has to see you today about the Danway stuff. Three o'clock was the only time he could make it. Also, the board meeting in L.A. has been confirmed for the twelfth. I got you on a nine AM flight, so, you can thank me for that…"

Lance didn't answer, too busy watching the guy in front of him who had some toilet paper stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Lotor laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Lance, relax. This isn't a brain surgery you're going into."

Lance sighed, pinching his temples. "It's just, I hate pitching to these Japanese guys. They make me nervous. I mean, what am I supposed to say, 'Who do you think'll win that Sumo championship?' I don't want to be offensive or anything! I know how hard it is being in a foreign place for the first time."

"Lance, you'll be fine. You're great with people."

Lance smiled slightly. "Thanks, I guess."

The wind suddenly picked up, causing Lance's suit jacket to flare open, displaying his blue suspenders.

Lotor arched his eyebrow. "Nice."

Lance blushed, buttoning his jacket. "Keith made me wear 'em."

Lotor snorted, turning to admire a nearby parked car. "Jesus, look at that, a Testarossa. Now that's the car I'm going to drive when I'm making two hundred grand."

Lance smirked. "Yeah, sure. Pay off your Mustang first, though."

Lance and Lotor walked through the large office area, a place bustling with activity. Employees all over in various cubicles, talking on their telephones, punching in numbers on their computer.

As Lance entered his executive office and Lotor entered his cubicle, Lance's secretary, Romelle, approached Lance.

"Morning, Lance!" Romelle said brightly.

Lance smiled. "Good morning, Romelle. Hey, when the Kobiashis arrive, have Nyma take them right to the—"

"Uhhh, yeah, about that, they're already here," Romelle interrupted, grimacing. She pointed to the conference room, and, sure enough, a large group of Japanese men were chatting in the room.

"They're early?" Lance asked.

"I know. Oh, and Nadia Rizavi called. She said they needed nine hundred thousand dollars transferred to Albany by noon."

"Noon? Shit!" Lance exclaimed.

Lance took the folder Romelle offered him and hurried over to Lotor's desk.

"Yes?" Lotor says, looking up from his paperwork.

"Listen, Rizavi needs nine hundred thousand dollars in Albany by noon. Can you transfer it to her payroll account?"

Lotor considered it for a second before nodding. "Sure, just give me your MAC code."

Lance pulled out his wallet and took out an address book. He jotted the code numbers on a piece of paper before handing it over to Lotor.

Lotor takes it, stuffing it in his pocket.

"Discretion, huh?" Lance asks.

"You bet," Lotor grinned. "I'll do it right away."

* * *

A carved wooden angel, at least eight feet tall, was hanging from a rope and into the afternoon sky and greeted Lance as he got home from work.

Lance walked through the front door, the sight of three workmen grabbing for the angel suspended on the rope greeting him.

"Where you guys from, the New York City Ballet?" Keith goaded. He suddenly made a gutsy maneuver and leaned forward out over the sidewalk to get a grip of the rope. "Here, let me."

Keith leaned out even further and Lance, who could see hundreds of ways of which this could go wrong, rushed forward and grabbed Keith by the waist, causing said black haired man to scream out.

"I just saved your life," Lance murmured with a smile into Keith's hair.

Keith pulled away, a scowl on his face. "Oh, you _bastard!_ Don't do that to me! You scared me half to death."

Lance stepped forward and held Keith to his chest. "Well, it's better than seeing your body splattered all over the street. Here, look out," Lance suddenly added, pulling away from Keith.

Lance jumped up, grabbing hold of the window's top molding, and swung out over the sidewalk. Lance could hear a gasp of fear come from his boyfriend, but he ignored it. Lance's feet pushed at the angel and sent it swinging away then back towards the loft. Lance jumped back and grabbed hold of the angel.

As Lance made his way back in, Keith slapped him upside the head. "Dammit, Lance, you scared the shit out of me!"

Before Lance could reply, Keith grabbed him in a bone-crushing embrace.

"Uhm, Lance, Keith? Am I interrupting something?"

"Lotor? That you?" Keith asked as he released his hold on Lance, turning towards the front door. Sure enough, Lotor was standing at the door, his keys to Lance and Keith's place dangling from his hand.

"The one and only," Lotor smirked.

"Yeah," Keith said, his face scrunched up slightly. He turned to address Lance. "Did you invite him?" He whispered.

"Nope. And I cannot for the life of me keep him away," Lance said under his breath.

Keith gave a grunt of amusement at Lance's words. Lotor, however, clapped Lance on the back in greeting.

"So, how's it going?"

Before either one could answer, a workman tapped Keith on the shoulder. "Where do you want this?" He asked, gesturing to the angel.

"Oh, in the bedroom," Keith responded.

For the first time since the day Lotor helped them renovate the apartment a week ago, he was able to look around at all the progress Lance and Keith (admittedly, mostly Keith) had gotten done.

The walls were painted in lovely pastels. The floor, a large gymnasium-like expanse, was now lacquered with polyurethane, giving it a sleek shine. Furniture and boxes were piled up along the walls, but that'd change soon. Dominating the space, with a surreal presence, were large numbers of Keith's sculptures, ceramics, and even a few paintings. Tucked in the corner was a vintage jukebox that had been Keith's father's back in the day.

"Woah, the place looks great. Really great," Lotor enthused.

"Like it, huh?" Lance simpered as he crossed his arms.

"'Like' is hardly the word. I never thought it'd be this beautiful. It's incredible."

Just then, a mover lugged over Lance's favorite chair.

Keith frowned. "Lance, you kept that chair?"

Lance cocked his head. "What do you mean? I love this chair, and don't tell me you don't love this chair too." Lance plopped into the old chair, a cloud of dust floating out of it. However, Lance paid it no mind as he tucked himself deeper in the chair.

"Well… yes, but that doesn't mean a thing. It doesn't go with anything." Keith walked over to behind the chair and rested his chin on Lance's head.

Lance looked up to Keith, his blue eyes glinting from the light. "It goes with me," he pouted.

Keith stood there for a second, his eyes narrowed. "I guess I could paint it," he said finally, walking away.

Lance grinned victoriously before processing his words. "You'll what?"


	2. Chapter 2

Lance, Keith, and Lotor were all sprawled out on the floor eating from the cartons of Chinese food. Blue, their gray and white cat, was eating alongside the couple whilst Lance was in the middle of a story.

 

"…It was the middle of December. I was sitting in my old office, the one Bandor's in now, just doing some work when suddenly, I heard a man screaming. I thought someone'd been shot or something!"

 

"They took away my MasterCard! It was Christmas, for fuck's sake," Keith added.

 

"You were four thousand dollars over your limit," Lance replied.

 

Keith rolled his eyes. "It wasn't four thousand, not even close. You're bluffing. But I'd already sent the payment! If anything, you're the one who lost it."

 

Lance faced Lotor with a smirk on his tan face. "He's still mad."

 

"No, I'm not!"

 

Before Lance could make a rebuttal, Blue began eating the food from out of Lance's carton.

 

Lance waved his arm at the cat. "Blue, stop!"

 

The damn cat ran away, her tail high in the air, almost in a disdainful manner.

 

"Anyways, you should've seen ol' Keith here. All pink and flushed. And he was screaming, too. Demanding to see the president. So Romelle brought him to me."

 

"You?" Lotor scoffed. "You weren't even a VP yet."

 

"Well, Keith didn't know that." Lance shrugged.

 

"Can you believe it?" Keith asked. "And the next thing I know, he was telling me about his life story. About how he'd lived in Cuba his whole life before moving away, how he'd just arrived in New York, how he didn't know many people yet. And all with a Spanish accent."

 

"Spanish accent? I didn't have a Spanish accent!"

 

"Oh yes, you did! It's the accent you slip into when you get nervous. You roll your 'r's and everything!" Keith argued.

 

Lance laughed, a blush spreading to his face. "I wasn't nervous."

 

Keith ignored him. "Admit it. You liked me. You were interested."

 

"Well, yeah, I thought you were cute," Lance said matter-of-factly.

 

"Cute?" Keith turned to face Lotor. "Do you believe this? I should have been Picasso's trophy husband. I should be living in Barcelona or Paris. But nope, I'm moving in with a Cuban banker who thinks I'm cute." Keith turned to Lance, both of them with two grins on their faces.

 

Lotor gagged. "God, your gushy eyes make me sick. I think I'm going to leave and call it a night."

 

The couple paid the retreating Lotor no mind as they proceeded to make out on the carpet.

* * *

 

Lance woke up to hear the jukebox going on. It sounded like _It Must Have Been Love_ by Roxette was just ending.

 

Lance groaned, noticing Keith's side of the bed was empty. No doubt Keith was sitting at his potter's wheel at some inconvenient time of the night.

 

As Lance entered the studio, he saw Keith sitting there at his potter's wheel, throwing a series of pots.

 

"What are you doing?" Lance said from the doorway as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.

 

"Art. I felt inspired," Keith answered, not looking away from his work.

 

"At two AM?"

 

Keith nodded, pressing his hand into the pot that was forming right in front of him. Lance watched the sensual movement of his fingers, molding and forming the clay. With every move Keith made, the clay responded to his slightest touch. Slowly, almost unconsciously, Lance moved from his spot at the door and reached for his shoulders, kissing them.

 

The seconds passed and Lance reached over him and gently placed his hand over Keith's hands, adding his fingers to the clay. Keith looked up at him.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

"I feel inspired."

 

Lance's hands dig into the clay and Keith smiled. Their fingers seemed to dance together. After a moment, Keith reaches up to Lance, his clay-covered fingers streaking his face and curving down to his chest. Lance grinned and reached down to him.

 

Lance stood up and walked over to Keith's Fathers' old jukebox and pressed two buttons. Lance watched as a mechanical arm selected a record and slowly lowered it to the turntable. The record's arm hovered over the record and then descended. It began to play _Unchained Melody_.

 

"Dance with me, Keith," Lance said, crossing back over to Keith and he placed his hands on Keith's hips.

 

"Oh my God," Keith said, but since Lance didn't hear any denials, Lance led them both to the center of the room.

 

"This is stupid," Keith muttered against Lance's chest.

 

"And?"

 

After hearing no other complaints Lance smiled.

 

_Oh, my love, my darling._

_I've hungered for your touch._

_A long, lonely time._

_Time goes by so slowly._

_And time can do so much._

_Are you still mine?_

_I need your love._

_I need your love._

_God speed your love to me._

 

The two swung their hips in the middle of the dark loft. Moonlight poured through the windows and shone off the floor. Wads of packing paper swirled around their moving feet.

 

Keith ran his fingers up and down Lance's back. The moment was sweet and erotic. Lance slowly drew his fingers down over Keith's face, gently caressing his forehead, his eyes, his lips.

 

Lance gently slid his hands down Keith's pajama bottoms, groping his package. Keith let out a moan of pleasure and his breathing slowed. They danced silently, Keith's hair swaying in the soft light.

 

The sounds of their feet ricocheted off the polished floor.

 

Keith's shirt was lifted above his naval as Lance pressed into him. Their stomachs touched and parted and touched again. Keith bit his lip while Lance eyed his moonlit form. Keith stroked Lance's chest, tracking his fingers down his torso, around the curve of his hips.

 

_Lonely rivers flow._

_To the sea, to the sea._

_To the open arms of the sea._

_Lonely rivers sigh._

_'Wait for me, wait for me.'_

_I'll be coming home, wait for me._

 

Lance leaned into Keith and nipped at his neck. Keith stopped dancing abruptly, his eyes closed. He stood absolutely still. Lance's hands moved to his backside and he pulled him closer.

 

Before Lance knew it, he and Keith were making love on the living room carpet. Paper and packing materials crumbled beneath them and scattered across the floor. For all his sensuality, it was Keith's hands and eyes that were the most expressive, revealing a tenderness that was deeply moving to Lance.

 

_Oh, my love, my darling._

_I've hungered, for your touch._

_A long, lonely time._

_Time goes by so slowly._

_And time can do so much._

_Are you still mine?_

_I need your love._

_I need your love._

_God speed your love to me._

 

The song ended. The jukebox arm retracted and gently slid the record back into its slot.

 

All was quiet.

* * *

 

Lance was still awake, and Keith was reading silently beside him.

 

It was so… quiet.

 

Too quiet, Lance decided as he shifted his position uncomfortably in bed, causing the bed to creak under his and Keith's body weight.

 

Keith marked his place in his book and tossed it over onto the nightstand, turning to face Lance.

 

"You okay?" He asked, concern present on his features.

 

Lance nodded noncommittally. "…Mhm. I'm fine." Lance leaned over to grab his own book from off the nightstand, flipping it open and pulling out his bookmark.

 

Keith pursed his lips. "What's the matter?"

 

Lance looked over to Keith. The lamps by both of their bedside tables were highlighting his features and his long dark hair was disheveled with unrest. Lance opted not to say anything and looked away.

 

Keith swung his arm around his partner's shoulders. He began to trace Lance's open palm. "Are you worried about the promotion?"

 

Lance shook his head, not taking his eyes off the words in his book but not quite reading them either.

 

He could see from out of the corner of Lance's eye that Keith was staring at him, searching Lance's guarded mind for cracks with those beautiful and observant lavender eyes.

 

"No, not really," Lance mumbled.

 

Keith sighed looking away. "Is it about us moving in together?"

 

Lance suddenly looked away. His head looked up to meet Keith's imploring gaze. "No," Lance said firmly. "I'm ecstatic to be moving in with you."

 

Keith narrowed his eyes in disbelief and Lance moved a hand to his cheek. "No, honestly. I don't really know what's bothering me. I guess it's a lot of things…" Lance said, trailing off. "I just don't want anything to go wrong."

 

Keith met his eyes. "What do you mean?"

 

"It's just… it seems like whenever there's anything good happens in my life I'm afraid I'm going to lose it."

 

Keith took his hand. "I love you. I really love you."

 

After a few seconds of silence, Lance smiled. "Ditto."

 

They both leaned in for a kiss, but the remote had been between them and when Keith moved forward, the Tv came on.

 

"A bombing was reported in L.A. earlier today and—"

 

The Tv was suddenly muted when Keith pointed the remote towards the Tv.

 

"Oh, Jesus, another one," Lance said in horror as the two watched a dead body being carried away to somewhere off screen.

 

"It's terrible," Keith said in agreement, his face scrunched in empathy.

 

"I should cancel my L.A. trip, these things always happen in threes."

 

Keith rolled his eyes at the paranoia. He situated himself under the covers. "Lance, get serious. Besides, you lead a charmed life," Keith said as he laid his head on Lance's chest.

 

Lance didn't say anything as he leaned back against his pillow.

 

The two watched the Tv in a mixture of sympathy and horror as another few bodies were carried on and off the screen.

 

"It's crazy. Just like that," Lance said. "Everything changes. Your life and those around you…"

 

Keith nodded. "Yeah. Good thing the chances are slim, right?"

 

Lance smiled down at his lover's resting body. "Yeah. Good thing."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay of this chapter on my part - that's about how the updates of this fic will go, but this chapter is longer and will hopefully make up for the long wait. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and happy reading!

Lance sat at his computer, his address book with his access codes sitting open beside him.

It was mid-day. The birds were chirping outside and, from what Lance could see from out his office window, the brilliant blue sky was littered with several blindingly white, puffy clouds.  
   
But Lance was confused. There was way too much money in these accounts to be plausible. After pushing a series of buttons and receiving the same response, his frustration took over and he whacked the computer on the side.  
   
Just as he did that, Lotor poked his head into Lance's office, his brow arched. Lance looked up sheepishly.  
   
"Just a glitch. What's up?" Lance asked, cocking his head to the side.  
   
"The Mark Greenberg and Candice White accounts. I can't get in. Your MAC code doesn't work."  
   
Lance ran a hand over his face as he thought. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I changed it."  
   
Lotor crossed his arms. "Why? What's up?"  
   
Lance shrugged. "Nothing, I just wanted to nose around a bit… Can you keep your mouth shut?"  
   
"Of course," Lotor said, closing the door and sitting down on Lance's desk. "Now, tell me what's going on."  
   
"I think I've stumbled into something. There's too much money in these accounts."  
   
"Too much money? Are you sure? How can there be too much money?" Lotor asked incredulously.  
   
"That's what I keep asking myself!" Lance exclaimed.  
   
"It must be the computer," said Lotor.  
   
"I've been checking."  
   
"Yeah, Mr. Fixit," Lotor said with a laugh as he mimicked Lance, smacking the computer on the side. Lance blushed.  
   
Lotor continued. "Come on, move over. Let me see what I can do."  
   
"Not yet," Lance said apologetically. "I'll be doing some more digging around."  
   
"Okay, okay. Just call me when you're ready for help."  
   
Lotor stood up from his place on Lance's desk, moving towards the door. "So, what are you and Keith doing tonight?"  
   
"Oh, we're going to the theatre. He wants to see Macbeth at the Spring Street Repertory," Lance said, smiling at the wince Lotor gave in response. "You wanna come?"  
   
Lotor scrunched his face. "Thanks, but I'll pass," He said as he ducked out of the office, Lance chuckling as he turned back to his computer.

* * *

Bright marquee lights sparkled overhead as Lance and Keith exited the theatre. It was a beautiful brisk night to match a beautiful day.  
   
"I loved it," Lance said as he yawned. Yes, he'd fallen asleep some part in the middle, but from what he'd seen it'd been alright.  
   
"Sure," Keith snorted, squeezing Lance's hand.  
   
They walked hand in hand down the dark street, heading toward their apartment. The pavement was full of eerie shadows, but Lance paid them no mind, too busy staring at Keith's face.  
   
"Did I tell you what Marcia said?" asked Keith.  
   
"Yeah, around six times."  
   
"Six? No, I didn't. Lance, come on. I'll have two major pieces in the show. The New York Times reviews her gallery all the time. This could be huge!"  
   
Lance sighed exasperatedly. "Keith, the 'New York Times' is some frustrated little critic with pimples on his ass who flunked out of art school. Who cares what the New York Times thinks?"  
   
"Eight million readers, that's who," Keith muttered.  
   
Lance continued. "Your work's out of this world, and that's a fact, Keith. It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks."  
   
Despite the words Lance had tried to engrave into Keith's self-esteem since day one, it was obvious that Keith thought it did indeed matter what other people think.  
   
Lance swung an arm around Keith and Keith nestled into the Cuban boy. Lance kissed the top of his head.  
   
Keith suddenly looked up.  
   
"I want to marry you, Lance." There was an unexpected seriousness to his voice.  
   
Lance widened his eyes, taken aback. "What?" He said dumbly.  
   
"I've been thinking about it for days. Well, more than thinking. I want to do it." Finally, noticing Lance's dumbfounded look, he furrowed his brows. "What's that look for?"  
   
"Well, it's just… it's not legal… and it's been so long since we've even talked about it! I mean, you used to not even want to acknowledge it."  
   
"Well, people are doing it now… Gay marriage doesn't have to be legal. Veronica and Acxa did it, remember? We attended the ceremony…" Out of nowhere, an odd look crossed Keith's face. "Do you love me, Lance?"  
   
Lance furrowed his brows. What kind of question was that? "What do you think, Keith?"  
   
"Why do you never say it?"  
   
"What are you talking about?"  
   
"You always say 'ditto'. It's not the same."  
   
There was a pause on Lance's behalf.  
   
"People say 'I love you' all the time. It doesn't mean anything."  
   
Keith ripped his hand from Lance's and crossed his arms with a sour expression. "Sometimes you need to hear it."  
   
Lance was about to respond when a man's face emerged from the shadows from a nearby alley.  
   
The man stood in the darkness between two buildings, staring at the couple for a moment before stepping onto the sidewalk. Lance and Keith stood motionless as they both observed the man. He had an unshaven face and white spiky hair that covered his right eye. He had dark skin and a single earring on his left ear. The man hesitated before walking the other way. Keith let out a deep exhale.  
   
Lance grabbed Keith's hand and they continued to walk faster than they had before down the street. Soon after that, they heard footsteps coming after them.  
   
"What should we do?" Keith asked, a panicky expression on his face.  
   
"Let me handle this," Lance replied. He was trying to keep his facial expression calm, but on the inside, his heart was beating a beat per second.  
   
Lance stopped abruptly and turned around on his feet. A gun was staring at him in the face. Beside him, he could hear Keith let out a gasp.  
   
"Your. Wallet." The man growled menacingly, not lowering his arm.  
   
Lance hesitated, his hand outstretched in front of Keith in panic.  
   
"Lance, give it to him!" Keith exclaimed.  
   
Lance reached for his jeans pocket and began to pull out his wallet. The mugger grabbed his wrist and pulled the wallet out himself.  
   
"Okay, now just take the money… Just leave the wallet and—"  
   
Before Lance could finish his sentence, the man swiped Lance across the head and Keith let out a scream. Lance looked up from his injury just in time to see the mugger whack Keith across the face.  
   
"Don't touch him!" Lance roared, plowing into the mugger with all his might.  
   
Lance pushed the man against the wall, swinging his arms anywhere he can, making contact with any part of the man's body he can reach. It was a wild, all-out brawl, and Lance could only see red.  
   
He could feel Keith trying to rip the two men apart, trying to stop the fighting, but it was no use. Both men were too angry to even feel Keith's actions.  
   
Suddenly, the gun went off. The man's eyes widened and took off running, running back towards where he came from. Lance charged after him.  
   
" _LANCE!_ "  
   
Lance ran down the dark street, but the mugger was already a full block ahead and he disappeared into the shadows.  
   
Lance gave up. It was no use. He'd just have to cancel his credit cards and such… He slowly turned and began to walk back towards Keith.  
   
He could see Keith dimly at the end of the block as Lance approached him. He was… screaming for help. Had something happened to him while Lance had run off?  
   
Frightened, Lance called out. "Keith?"  
   
He didn't answer. Lance tensed up and started running towards him. He was just three feet away when he stopped. An expression of pure horror overwhelmed his face.  
   
Keith was drenched in blood. His eyes were glazed over, on the verge of shock. Panting, he stooped down to the curb and grabbed hold of something lying in the shadows and pulled it towards him.  
   
…It was Lance's body…  
   
Keith was holding Lance's body in his arms.  
   
Lance numbly moved over to stand beside Keith. He was awash in fear and confusion. He was unable to move. It was a few seconds before the full impact of the situation dawned on him.  
   
He let out a blood-curdling scream. " _No!_ "  
   
Lance jumped down towards his body and reached out to grab hold of his motionless form. To his horror, his hands passed right through.  
   
"No, God, _por favor_ , no…" Lance moaned pitifully, looking at his hand as if it just betrayed him. Lance suddenly looked up, crazed, frenzied, and began circling Keith and his body, as if to undo what was just done.  
   
"No, this isn't happening. It's not happening," Lance chanted to himself.  
   
Lance reached out to Keith for help. His hand went right through his shoulder. Lance finally let out the onslaught of tears that had sprung to his eyes.  
   
Suddenly, amidst his self-pity, Lance heard footsteps. Lance perked up and saw two men approaching Keith. The sound of sirens was heard in the distance.  
   
"Help me!" Lance yelled, and yet, it remained that no one seemed to hear him.  
   
Instead, they ran right through Lance.  
   
Lance watched helplessly as they reached his bloody body. Keith looked up and began screaming hysterically. One of the men grabbed him as the other one went for Lance's wrist. There seemed to be no sign of life. Even though Lance had already gathered as much, the knowledge that it had been confirmed was even more daunting.  
   
The first man held Keith back as his friend stooped down to perform some form of cardiopulmonary resuscitation.  
   
There was no response.  
   
Lance leaned down as well, trying desperately to do something, anything to help, but it was useless.  
   
"Come on, come on!" Lance cried.  
   
The man banged on Lance's chest, causing more blood to gush from the wound. Keith recoiled as the man pumped on the bodies' chest again.  
   
It wouldn't work, Lance thought miserably, pulling away and bringing his knees to his chest as he rocked back and forth.  
   
Suddenly, a brilliant white light shot onto the street as a host of glowing forms, radiating an intense inner light, its magnificence floating before Lance. A blinding tunnel spiraled in an infinite vortex behind him. He could even smell his mama's cooking! Lance was awed and confused. It was almost as if he were on a movie set, and a dazzling spotlight was set to shine on him. The light was utterly enchanting.  
   
"Don't leave me, Goddammit! I need you, Lance!"  
   
Lance turned around to see Keith fighting frantically against the man holding him back. Keith's face was pale and his lilac eyes were deranged.  
   
"Keith!" Lance called out. No response. "Keith…"  
   
Once again, there was no response on Keith's behalf. Lance hesitated for a moment. He was torn between Keith and the light. In a painful but conscious gesture, he turned away from the light and back towards Keith. At that instant, the light behind him disappeared with the sound of a pneumatic door closing. The sense of terrible finality as the tunnel evaporated into the void filled Lance, and he couldn't help but slightly regret his decision. What if it had been the wrong one?  
   
Lance was left on the dark pavement in shock. He stood there for a second before running back towards Keith.  
   
As he reached him, an ambulance rounded the corner.  
   
Swirls of red and blue light sped toward the ambulance as car headlights and street-lamps merged in a wild, dizzying rush, the siren wailing into the night.  
   
Lance's body was hastily laid in the back of the ambulance as a paramedic applied electric paddles to his chest in a fruitless attempt to save him. After a moment, the paramedic looked up at Keith. Lance could tell that from the expression in his eyes, it was hopeless.  
   
Keith kneeled over Lance's body, grabbed him and began to cry in long, terrible sobs that made Lance's eyes well up even more.  
   
"No," Lance whispered, standing above Keith's shaking body, tears filling his eyes. "No…"

* * *

A doctor, comforting Keith, accompanied him from one of the emergency operating rooms and lead him through a pair of swinging doors into a separate waiting area. Lance saw two policemen and two detectives stand up and approach him.  
   
Lance moved to follow Keith but stopped midway. He didn't want to leave his body… if there was any chance he could somehow go back into it, he didn't want to leave it behind before it was too late.  
   
He turned back just as his corpse, covered in a blue sheet, was wheeled into the corridor and parked alongside the wall.  
   
The numbness that had been there when he'd realized he'd died returned as he sat down in the chair beside his body.  
   
Just then, a tanned, heavyset man approached Lance and joined him on the bench. An orange bandana of sorts poked out from underneath his middle-parted dark hair.  
   
"So, what happened to you?" The man asked nonchalantly, a friendly expression on his face.  
   
Lance widened his eyes, surprised that someone could see him. "What?"  
   
The man smiled kindly. "You're new, right?" At Lance's hum of confirmation, he nodded. "Yeah, I thought so."  
   
There was a pause in the conversation before Lance asked, "you're talking to me, right?"  
   
The nice man grinned. "Relax, it isn't like before, you know. It's a whole new experience."  
   
"Who are you?" Lance asked.  
   
"I'm Hunk. I'm waiting for my wife, Shay. She's in the Cardiac wing. She's fighting it, alright," Hunk said with a chuckle. "She's always been feisty. Feisty but kind."  
   
Lance nods noncommittally, leaning back in his chair. He nearly falls out of it when Hunk gets out of his seat and shoves his head into the blue sheet covering Lance's body, his head disappearing.  
   
Hunk comes out from the blue sheet, a sympathetic look on his face. "Gunshot, huh? That'll do it every time. I'm sorry," Hunk said, coming back over to sit next to Lance. "You might as well get used to it, though. You could be here for a long time."  
   
Hunk suddenly leaned forward, as if to tell Lance a secret. "I'll tell you something. Doors aren't as bad as you think. You'll understand."  
   
Then, without warning, there was a loud commotion and Lance could see several physicians operating furiously on a woman beside them. It looked as if the woman had been in a nasty car accident, and the doctor's attempts to save her were failing.  
   
Hunk shook his head as he watched the scene. "She isn't going to make it. I've seen it a million times. She's a goner. See? Here they come. Lucky, she is. Could've been the other one, you never know."  
   
Before Lance could understand what was happening, the entire room was filled with a strange preternatural light. Lance looks up and freezes.  
   
The amorphous forms he saw right after he died were floating down through the ceiling and reaching for the girl's body on the table. The orbs were emitting a powerful and earthly light.  
   
"Hurry, we're losing her!" A nearby doctor said in a rush.  
   
The glowing form took hold of the girl's spirit and helped extract it from her body. Her physical form changed instantly from a solid object to an ethereal substance.  
   
Lance stared in amazement as the strange beings carried the spirit upward, evaporating through the ceiling afterward.  
   
"She's gone," The doctor sighed.  
   
The light in the room grew dull instantly. Nurses covered the dead woman with a dark sheet as the doctors stepped away. Lance turned to Hunk.  
   
"What just happened…?"  
   
But Hunk wasn't there.  
   
While Lance was searching for Hunk, an orderly approached the gurney with Lance's body and began pushing it towards the elevator.  
   
"No!" Lance cried out, leaping in front of the gurney.  
   
But instead of his intention to somehow stop the stretcher from moving, it rolled right through him. Lance stood, paralyzed, as the body of the orderly intersected with his.  
   
It was a stunning moment of extraordinary strangeness as Lance witnessed the atoms and the molecules of the orderly's body passing through Lance's. It was like a glimpse at ultimate chaos, the universe within.  
   
Then, in a flash, the orderly had passed through, but Lance was still shaking.  
   
Lance stared up at the ceiling, keeping his nausea at bay.  
   
"Oh, God, help me…"  
   
The ceiling tiles and acoustical tiles began to blur and the hallway grew dark.  
   
And just like that, Lance blacked out.


End file.
